


You Have my Gun

by FingolfinSilme



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Gen, Guns, Mostly Merry and Pippin nonsense, Multiverse, Secret Guild, Tolkiencrackweek, elrond is mad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FingolfinSilme/pseuds/FingolfinSilme
Summary: When Merry and Pippin find a strange object in the fields, the fate of Middle-Earth may be changed irreversibly.Based on this post: https://hauntedsiriel.tumblr.com/post/620983884234014720/my-hot-take-imma-write-a-fic-gimme-a-sec
Relationships: Frodo Baggins & Merry Brandybuck & Sam Gamgee & Pippin Took, Merry Brandybuck & Pippin Took
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: Tolkien Crack Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

James Sommerfield was an ordinary man. As far as ‘ordinary’ can be applied to a member of the secret services.

He was so ordinary that he had discovered a rather incredible truth.

By looking close enough in his organisation’s archives, he had noticed the systemic disappearances of several officers over the past five decades or so.

It had started in 1942 when a young officer had fallen off a bridge and into a stream while trying to repair his Jeep. His body had never been recovered.

In 1957, an agent had slipped down the stairs of a Moscow metro station as she was pursuing a polar bear dealer. Again, her body had vanished in the bustling crowd of the station.

Finally, in the Spring of 1983, another man’s body was lost after having been ran over by a brand new cream Ford Falcon XE as he was crossing a badly-lit street of Philadelphia to go to Raffles (but this detail was of course not mentioned in the report).

It appeared to James Sommerfield that the only element which linked these cases together, save the mysterious disappearances of the bodies was that they were all connected to motorised vehicles and all the victims belonged to the same organisation.

The agent had therefore decided to investigate these cases in his own free time, hoping that his hindsight on the matter would help enlighten him.

Agent Sommerfield visited the places where the incidents had occurred but did not find anything at all.

It was only when he was back to his home village of Williamscot-or rather as he stepped off the number 200 Bus coming from Banbury Town Centre at Greensward- that something hit him. Literally.

\--

The sky looked blue. It only looked because James wasn't sure if it was light blue or actually grey; his eyes had not readjusted to the light yet.

Another thing he wasn't sure of was whether he was wet or cold. Or both since the first one usually caused the second.

Agent Sommerfield dared move his legs the slightest bit. The ground beneath him sputtered as he did. Raising his cold/wet hand to his face, he realised he was actually lying down in a muddy reservoir. How he had gotten there, he could not tell.

With very slow and slippery steps, James managed to stand up, despite having nothing to hold onto. It was not for nothing that he had been recruited as a secret service agent.

The first thing he did was pick up his phone which was still in his pocket. It was slightly dirty but still turned on. However, the region did not seem to have any network, so James gave up on the idea of calling his boss.

Fields stretched as far as his eye could see. He thought he could also spot a few cows and the occasional farm. Maybe someone there could help him understand where he was.

James, therefore, decided to walk over to the closest building to investigate. The sun was high in the sky already, indicating that it must be about midday. Because of the heat, the mud on Sommerfield’s skin and clothes was starting to harden and made it increasingly harder to move.

By the time he had arrived at the farm, the mud had caked around his eyes and his white button-up shirt had become a brown piece of cardboard.

Furthermore, the building seemed to be entirely deserted. All the doors and windows were wide open but there was no one inside or around the house.

With a sigh, James continued past the farm and down a small hill. The vegetation got slightly denser, bushes growing along the path he was following until he reached a small river.

James considered the state of his clothes and decided that it would be unwise to approach people with such a disastrous appearance. Consequently, he decided to wash his clothes and skin in the river. 

Carefully, agent Sommerfield removed his jacket, his shirt and his trousers. He set his belt with his gun on the bank and entered the water, swimming a few lengths to find a deeper spot.

The trees and thickets on the bank hid the ground.

Soon, his belt was out of sight.

A bush nearby shook slightly and two heads emerged from the leaves.

\--

Merry and Pippin slid down through the thickets at the edge of Farmer Maggot’s field. If the old hobbit managed to get a hold on them, they would be dead, for sure!

Thankfully, the two hobbits knew these fields better than anyone, because they had run around that region of the Shire for the most of their lives, hiding from several figures of authority whom they had decided had no business giving them orders.

When finally they deemed Farmer Maggot would have given up on following them, Merry and Pippin collapsed in the shade of a large bush by the river and dropped the potatoes they had stolen next to them. 

Pippin shifted to lie on his stomach but kicked one of the potatoes with his foot, causing it to roll down the small slope leading to the river bank.

Merry sighed, exasperated. “You are the most annoying hobbit, Pip,” he said as he stood up to chase after the potato.

It was sheer luck that the potato stopped before dropping into the water, Merry thought as he arrived on the bank.

Turned out it was not completely due to luck, since the potato had stopped against a strange object which the two hobbits could not quite name.

Merry stopped and Pippin collided against his back as he followed, a bit too quickly and obliviously. 

Rolling his eyes, Merry crouched down and examined the strange object.

“What’s that, now?” Pippin asked, shoving his cousin to the side to get a better view.

“Looks like some sort of belt.”

“And what’s that attached?” Pippin picked up the other object attached to the belt. It was black, heavy, and didn’t look like anything he had seen before. “I’m sure it’s an Elvish trinket.”

Merry frowned. Maybe it was better not to touch anything belonging to Elves, of all people but, when he looked up, he noticed there was no one around who could claim possession of it, so he shrugged finally. A closer examination wouldn’t hurt anybody, would it?

“Let me see, Pip.” Without waiting for an answer, 

Merry reached out to snatch the object from the other’s hands.

“Hey, I had it first!” Pippin protested, pulling it back towards him.

The two hobbits squabbled over the object for a few more seconds, until a loud BANG rang through the prairie. A moment later, a wild turkey dropped from the sky between them.

Merry and Pippin looked at each other, and then at the fuming object between their hands.

“Turkey-killing machine,” they both whispered at the same time, before running off through the fields again.  
\--  
Having swum a rather long distance down the river, it took agent Sommerfield a moment to return to the bank where he had left his possessions after hearing the gunshot.

Panic had seized him at that moment. Had someone found his stuff? Were they going to steal his weapon? Had they killed someone?!

He ran out of the water, cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck (or was that just because he had been in the river?) when he saw no one on the bank and more importantly when he noticed that his gunbelt had disappeared.

James looked around him. No one. Then, feeling a knot starting to form in his stomach, he got dressed hurriedly and, hoping to find the thief who had stolen his weapon, picked a direction and ran, his trousers falling down his hips.


	2. Chapter 2

When they stumbled upon- or rather stumbled on- Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins, Merry and Pippin had planned to accompany them on whatever adventure they were having until it got dark and they had to return home.

However, the next few hours did not go as planned.

First, it had turned out that some creepy people with black clothes and huge horses had started chasing them through the forest. Which was extremely rude. By hobbit standards, anyway. And maybe by everyone’s standards, too, actually, but they weren’t sure, since they’d never really left the Shire before. When they had managed to escape the riders and were on the ferry, Merry and Pippin considered telling Frodo and Sam about the turkey-killing machine but decided they had enough worries like this. Besides, they didn’t want to share it with them.

After, they met with some equally weird Elves. Merry and Pippin considered asking them if the turkey-killing machine was theirs, but decided against it since they were a bit strange and were leaving Middle-Earth, anyway. Besides, they didn’t look like the type who enjoyed turkey, so it would make no sense that it belonged to them.

A few days later, they had entered the Old Forest and met with yet another strange being. Merry and Pippin had considered asking Tom Bombadil about the turkey-killing machine but decided against it because he kept on singing like a mad-man and would most likely not be able to bear the responsibility of keeping such a precious object as the TKM, as they had started calling it.

Another unfortunate event had nearly forced them to use the TKM, but Merry and Pippin weren’t sure if a machine designed to kill turkeys could kill a Barrow-wight, and they had managed to escape before they could decide, anyway.

In Bree, they had encountered another bizarre man. Merry and Pippin did not trust Strider in the least bit, so did not even consider telling him about the TKM.

The night on Weathertop had made them afraid enough to reconsider their position on Strider. Maybe the ranger knew if the TKM could kill Ring-wraiths, and therefore use it to protect the poor Frodo, who had been stabbed. However, the next few days had been so intense and terrifying that they did not have time to consider all the elemental questions that came with revealing they had the TKM. These included: would Strider take it from them? Would Strider know how to use it? 

Would Strider find their discovery incredible enough to grant them a second breakfast? And, most importantly, did Strider like turkey?

It was only in Rivendell that the hobbits were able to gather their bearings and seriously start thinking about what to do next with the TKM.

“All I’m saying is that it’s useless to have it if we don’t use it,” Pippin argued, setting the belt on his bed. It had been his turn to keep it, that day.

Merry shook his head. “Yes, but we have to know how to use it before we use it.”

“But if we’d asked Strider before, we could have used it against the Wraiths and maybe Frodo wouldn’t have been stabbed!”

“Pippin, this is a turkey killing machine. It kills turkeys. Ring-wraiths and turkeys are two very different things, don’t you think?”

The youngest hobbit pouted. “I still think we should tell someone.”

Merry considered his cousin’s words for a moment. “But if we tell someone, they’ll take it from us and we’ll have done all that for nothing! Elves are so full of themselves, they’ll get all the merit of our discovery.”

Pippin kept on sulking.

“You know, Lord Elrond said he had a very extensive library,” Merry continued, pacing the room. “Maybe he has some books about turkey-killing machines.”

While Merry was thinking, Pippin had picked up the TKM again and was inspecting it with an unquenchable fascination, as he often did when the others weren’t looking.

“What about we go in the library, find a book that could teach us how to use it, and then we’ll be the only ones who know how to everyone will be forced to listen to us when we show it to them. They won’t be able to steal our discovery, then. Pip, are you even listening to me?”

Pippin looked up and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Sounds great,” he replied, not having listened to a word of what Merry was saying.

“Let’s go, then. And take the TKM, so we can start using it when we find the book.” Merry walked out of their bedroom and Pippin followed, after having stuffed the   
belt in the inside of his jacket.

“Wait, what book?”

Merry threw him an angry glare in response and took the direction of the library.  
\--  
As each day passed, James Sommerfield got more confused.

The first thing he realised was that he was in a foreign country. Even though the fields reminded him of England, the people living there spoke a language he did not understand. And he knew a lot of languages, which reduced the possibilities of his location a great deal.

Another thing he had found strange were the inhabitants themselves. Short. Hairy feet. A bit like gnomes, really. At first, James had thought they were children dressed up but, upon closer inspection (from a fairly reasonable distance), he had realised they were actually adults. Then, maybe, had he landed in some distant people’s land? But how he had arrived there was still a question that plagued his mind, for he saw no planes in the sky, no shores where boats could have come, and no trace of modern civilization.

Following the river, James soon reached a less populated area. Having no clue as to where the thief had gone, he wandered aimlessly in the forest. As the evening started to fall on this extraneous land, agent Sommerfield found himself in the middle of a path traced through the trees. Before he could decide to follow it, though, a biting scream pierced the air.

His secret service agent instincts prompted him to hide. Just as he ducked into the bushes, a group of riders sped past him. Big riders. With big horses. James shuddered.

And yet, his secret service agent instincts prompted him to follow. 

And you could never deny your instincts when you were a secret service agent.


End file.
